


Desperate Times

by TheWubber



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Cannibal AU, Cannibalism, Gore, M/M, Mature warning for gore I guess, and came up with the original idea lmao, basically they get desperate for food, kinda sad, kippy-bippy really really helped yet again, not really shippy but eh, yes another damn AU from me what else were you all expecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8290871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWubber/pseuds/TheWubber
Summary: Junkrat has lost his leg before and they'd eaten it just fine, why not his arm, too?





	

The first limb that Junkrat had lost was his right leg. He had blown it up by accident, admittedly a rather large fuckup on his part. It was a nice, peaceful night accompanied by the calming sounds of his bodyguard Roadhog’s breathing. At least, it was peaceful before the explosion. The sound cut through the air shortly before a pained scream from Junkrat.

Of course once it was over and Junkrat was taken care of, he and Roadhog weren’t entirely sure what to do with the thing. They hadn’t eaten all day and while his leg was skinny, they didn’t want to waste good meat. That was the good thing about being alright with eating people, when you lose a limb, you’re quick to get rid of it. It was even better when it was taken into consideration that they were in fact on the run and needed as little of a trail as possible.

They cooked it and ate it and it was alright, though Junkrat was still a little shaken up at the idea of eating his own leg. He would stare down at the freshly bandaged stump and swear he could still feel the leg he currently had stuffed in his mouth. It ached and he knew Roadhog was worrying about it quite a bit. But they were two smart blokes, one huff of Roadhog’s Hogdrogen and he was good as new. Of course, as good or new as one could be with one leg and a new string of aches and pains.

But, overall Junkrat was okay. They managed to find him a new prosthetic leg, and even though it was basically a peg leg and Junkrat walked funny with it, he was okay. It was an accident, and even though he knew he and his bodyguard had actually eaten his own leg, it was only because it had been blown off on accident and they didn’t want to waste the opportunity to eat. It was okay.

Things went back to normal after that, and they had more peaceful nights as well as some nights that left Junkrat with a much more noticeable limp and some new bruises and puncture wounds on his legs and neck. They were happy, despite their occasional arguments. Sometimes Junkrat was too reckless, sometimes Roadhog was too quiet. They still managed to be happy together.

At least until Junkrat lost his second limb. His right arm. The limb that now made him wake up crying and shaking from terrible nightmares and ghost pains. The limb that made him flinch when Roadhog would reach towards him. The arm that he had voluntarily sacrificed.

It was a less peaceful night that night. They were sitting by the fire, the sounds of their empty stomachs driving Junkrat mad. He got up and paced around, then winced when his stomach rumbled yet again. They hadn’t been able to find anyone to eat in days, despite Roadhog’s endless hunting. There were no Junkers in sight, and there probably wouldn’t be any more for miles. They could be dead by then.

Junkrat was sick of it. He was sick of the pain in his stomach, the overwhelming hunger that made him much weaker than he had ever felt before. He was going insane, losing his mind, losing control of his thoughts. They ran around his head rapidly, his temptations and desires feeling more dominant than his threadbare sense of logic.

He looked down at his leg. That had been pretty good for them, right? They had felt fairly full after his leg. Hadn’t they? He couldn’t remember clearly. He remembered the meat. Remembered a lot about the meat. The smell, the taste, the taste, the taste. God he missed that taste. He would give anything to have that taste again.

Then his sight moved to his right arm. It looked pretty skinny, but there would have to be enough for the both of them, right? There would have to be, this was too good of a plan for there not to be. He looked at Roadhog, who was successfully ignoring everything around him but his book. The big lug could easily cut off his arm, easily. If he could crush a bloke’s skull between his thumb and index finger than he would have to be able to tear off Junkrat’s arm.

He looked at it again. This was the arm that didn’t have a glove, but was just as worn and calloused and dirty. Would they have to clean it? No, no, they didn’t have to clean his leg. They never ate the skin of a person. Too dirty. He giggled a bit at the thought. They didn’t have water, either. No water to clean the skin. No clean skin, no eating the skin. Roadhog’s rule. Junkrat couldn’t care less. Why was he staring at his arm?

Oh, right, right. He wanted to eat it. He looked over at Roadhog again.

“Oi, Roadie,” he said, his voice sounding a little more hoarse than he thought it would.

The man in the mask looked up, a little annoyed. “What?”

“Roadie, Roadie,” Junkrat continued, already losing his train of thought. He snapped his fingers on his right hand a few times before he looked at it and remembered. “Roadie, we need to eat my arm.”

The bodyguard looked at the crazed blonde oddly. “We’re not doing that.”

“We ate my leg!”

“You blew it up on accident.”

“We still ate it!”

“I’m not doing that. We’ll be going to the next town tomorrow anyways. We’ll find food there.”

Junkrat pouted his lips. “If we aren’t fuckin’ dead by then. We’re wastin’ away, mate. Besides, ’m left handed.”

“No you’re not.”

“I can be!” Junkrat’s shrill voice whined just a little too loudly.

Roadhog sighed, irritation spreading through him and making him tense up. Junkrat didn’t back down. The larger man looked over at the blonde, looking at his right arm, then at his right leg. Or, at least, what was left of it. That had been an accident, and they hadn’t eaten it on purpose, but it had given them enough energy to last a little while. His arm was thinner, but Rat could eat it at the very least. He was already starting to lose weight, and for him, that was dangerous.

Roadhog considered some other options. Maybe they could find some lizards, or maybe even one of the irradiated cicadas. Those were pretty big, and they’d eaten some of them before, and they had given the two of them just as much energy. Hell, they may even be able to find some wandering Junker if they were lucky.

Roadhog gave it an hour of walking around their camp and a little beyond to look for something, anything better than just cutting off Junkrat’s arm. Of course the blonde whined and growled that his arm would better, and quicker. They wouldn’t be wasting energy when they had food right there, they just needed to get it off of Junkrat’s body.

Of course this was starting to heavily wear down Roadhog’s patience. The fact that the larger man was incredibly hungry as well, he was just better at ignoring it. But now, with no other choices for food in sight and Junkrat’s constant complaining, the idea was much more tempting. He looked at Junkrat’s arm again and his mouth watered a bit. He was getting hungry. He stopped in his tracks, and Junkrat, who was still focused on convincing Hog, ran right into his bodyguard’s back.

“What the ’ell’s yer problem?!” Junkrat yelled, immediately getting defensive and glaring up at Roadhog.

The large man was unphased by the shrill voice. “Go back to camp. We’re going with your plan.”

Junkrat looked a little confused for a moment, then his face brightened up. “Really?”

Roadhog turned and pushed past Junkrat, who followed shortly after. Of course, Junkrat was still trying to convince Roadhog not to have any worries, that he didn’t need to be scared for his brave little rat, but the bodyguard knew to just tune it out. It was the only way for him to keep his patience without ripping out Junkrat’s tongue.

When they got back to their campsite, Junkrat was practically vibrating with excitement. Roadhog looked at him with uncertainty, logic seeping through his need for food yet again. He lifted his hook and looked at that, wondering just how exactly they were going to do this. He wondered if they even should.

One look at Junkrat and it was clear to see that he wasn’t thinking straight. His crazed orange eyes couldn’t focus on one single thing, darting back and forth at everything in their camp, his stomach was practically caving in on itself, and even his already strange and fidgety nature seemed more unhinged than usual. There was no way he was actually considering anything about this choice besides the fact that there would be food.

Even Roadhog had to admit that he wasn’t exactly thinking straight either. He just knew that he had to force himself to focus, but he knew that Junkrat had problems with that already. He looked down at the blonde’s arm again, now starting to salivate. He hadn’t eaten in so long. He needed to eat.

“Find something to bite down on,” Roadhog grunted, sitting down and looking at his hook. Should he use it for this? Would it even work for this?

They didn’t have much else, so he used some water to clean off the sharp blade as much as he could manage. It was bad enough that they were doing this in the middle of the desert, it would be even worse if Junkrat’s arm got infected because of a dirty blade.

It didn’t take long for the blonde to find something suitable. It was an old, light jacket they’d found in some run down store. It wasn’t in any condition to be worn, but it would work well enough as an oversized rag to bite down on. Hog’s mind began to second think yet again, already knowing how this would play out.

Before he even knew it, though, Rat was sitting in his lap, comfy as could be, the jacket’s sleeve shoved in his mouth. That wouldn’t be enough, not with his sharp teeth and strong jaw. The blonde would bite right through the cloth. Roadhog took it out of his mouth, folded it into a thicker pile, and ordered Junkrat to open his mouth before the jacket was shoved back inside.

Junkrat was patient for once, the promise of food keeping him still. Roadhog tried to find a good angle to start cutting at, but nothing seemed right. Eventually he just yanked over a crate that had been lying around and pinned Junkrat’s arm to it. The blonde seemed a little nervous at how tightly Roadhog kept him still. He almost started talking before his bodyguard hushed him.

The hook came down quick. The chopping motion may not have been the best way to start, but the larger man didn’t know how else to begin. Immediately after the initial whack, Junkrat screamed through the jacket, his teeth digging in and ripping through the fabric as he clenched his jaw. Tears already began to spill from his eyes, and Roadhog felt pity. This had to hurt like a bitch.

Still, he lifted the hook out of the holes he’d made in Junkrat’s arm and started actually cutting. The skin split easily beneath the blade, and Roadhog managed to keep Junkrat still as he squirmed and screamed and cried. The jacket was never going to survive this.

It took a while for the hook to go through most of the arm, what with it not actually being anything near to a knife, but the bodyguard managed. Soon, though, once the arm was just hanging on by muscle and skin, Roadhog got impatient. The sight of the meat was driving him insane, his hunger taking control of him for just a moment. He threw the bloody hook aside and used his other hand to rip off the remainder of Junkrat’s arm.

That drew the blonde over the edge. The jacket was spat out and he let out a scream that was so hoarse and shaky and full of pain that it brought Roadhog back. The older man looked down at the man he was meant to protect, then at the arm of that man, which he had just ripped off.

He felt far away for a moment, distant. Was this real? Did he really do this? Was this just a nightmare? He needed to wake up now. He couldn’t bring himself to believe he’d actually done it.

It took the weak whimpers and cries of Junkrat below him to bring him back. He refused to look at the disembodied arm, at least for the time being. He shifted Rat so that he could inspect the wound, almost shocked to realized how sick it made his stomach feel. It had been a long time since something as simple as an amputated arm made him feel queasy.

Despite Junkrat’s crying, Roadhog gingerly took the stump in his hand and ignored the urge to throw up at the sight of it. He looked it over and made sure that there wasn’t any dirt or anything that could infect it. It looked clean enough, and thankfully it looked as though it would be fairly easy to treat.

He treated and bandaged up the arm fairly quickly, using supplies that they had been storing for an emergency. If this wasn’t some kind of emergency then Roadhog didn’t know why they carried the stuff to begin with.

Once the wound was cleaned and covered up, Junkrat seemed to look a little better. His tears had dried, and now all he could do was tremble and whimper. It had to ache, Roadhog thought. It had to hurt so bad. He wasn’t even looking at his bodyguard now, and instead kept his gaze to the dirt. Roadhog couldn’t blame him, but it still hurt him so see Junkrat so scared of him.

The larger man eventually picked up the severed arm and cleaned off the dirt that was stuck to it by the quickly drying blood. Roadhog wasn’t sure if he should have been disgusted or hungry. He ended up being both, cursing the rumbling in his stomach.

Junkrat shuffled into his sleeping bag, his back to Roadhog and his body still shivering. He was scarily quiet, and if it weren’t for his trembles, Roadhog would fear that he may not have survived the amputation. When he figured out that Junkrat was okay, he got to work with cooking the arm.

It didn’t take long, the skinny meat cooking fairly quickly. It was nothing like Junkrat’s cooking, but Roadhog knew it would get them through the drive to the next town.

He tried to give Junkrat his portion of the arm, but the blonde just refused to eat.

“Get that shit away from me!” he screeched, his voice returning to him quickly. He glared at the meat, a terrified look in his eye. Roadhog thought he heard his heart break, but he ignored it.

“You need to eat,” he said, the regret and guilt in his voice non apparent. “This was your idea.”

Junkrat’s face practically turned green, and his eyebrows knit together. He looked up at Roadhog then, his mouth opening and closing as he was struck speechless. The larger man didn’t know what to do. He wondered what would happen if he tried to shove the meat down Junkrat’s throat. He already knew the answer, already knowing how Junkrat would probably throw it all up anyways and be in even worse condition, and how he would probably hate his bodyguard. Couldn’t have that.

Instead, Roadhog tried to ignore his own hunger. If Junkrat wouldn’t eat, then Roadhog wouldn’t either. When Junkrat saw this, he became outraged.

“What the hell are ya doin’, you bloody drongo?!” he yelled. “You tryin’ to lose a few pounds? Why aren’t ya eatin?”

“If you’re not eatin’ then I’m not either.”

“We’ll never make it to the next town if ya get all sentimental like that, ya dumbass.”

“It’s not right.”

“Nothin’ is. Eat the damn meat, Mako.”

That hit the larger man somewhere deep. He looked over at Junkrat, who looked tired, but indignant. Roadhog wanted to ignore it, but the way he was being stared down made him feel oddly small. He didn’t like feeling like that. He didn’t know what else to do, so he picked up the meat and started eating. Junkrat made a noise that sounded like a pitiful hybrid of disgust and satisfaction.

Roadhog had never felt worse while eating something. He managed to swallow it all, along with the overwhelming urge to vomit. Maybe Junkrat was right, one of them needed energy. He could find him some animals along the way, and maybe even the occasional lone or lost Junker to eat. They were going to be fine. Roadhog would take care of Junkrat.

But the larger man still couldn’t shake the feeling that this was probably the worst decision either of them had ever made.

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I haven't written any gore since my edgy days so excuse me if this is garbage lmao


End file.
